Hunting Medusa: The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1 (4 page)

The obnoxious grin slid off his face. “Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name.”

He glared at her, then folded his arms over his chest, dragging hers along and forcing her to half roll toward him again.

She yanked away but he put his other hand over her wrist.

“Go to sleep.”

She shot him a disbelieving glance. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to sleeping in handcuffs. Or with all the lights on. And I’m not tired.” That last sounded rather childish, she admitted to herself, but the man had nerve.

He observed her for a long moment, until she wanted to squirm under his scrutiny. Then another slow grin started at one corner of his mouth, gradually curving his full lower lip all the way to the opposite corner. “I bet I can fix that.”

“I don’t think so.” She leaned as far away as her trapped arm allowed.

He moved fast, flipping her on top of him before she realized his intent.

Andi blinked, then felt her heart pound faster. The Harvester had muscles on his muscles.

Not the best time to be noticing that, perhaps.

She watched him warily as he shifted under her, settled her close, then stretched their cuffed wrists away from their sides. She put her free hand on his shoulder and pushed herself up a little. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you tired.” His other hand slid up her spine to the nape of her neck, where his fingers started massaging the tight muscles.

“Stop it.” She shifted her head to one side, then the other, but his strong fingers continued exactly what they’d been doing. She frowned down at him.

He smiled innocently.

“That doesn’t work for me.” It did feel good, though. Not that she’d tell him.

Kallan’s bright gaze slid down from her eyes to her mouth, almost like an actual touch on her lips.

She swallowed. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late,” he murmured, using his grip at her nape to bring her closer.

Andi sucked in a startled breath when he brushed his mouth along hers. “You’re sick.”

It was his turn to blink. “What?”

“You’re here to kill me, right?”

His brows dipped into a frown.

“You’re not supposed to be…screwing me too.” She blushed.

His frown disappeared. “I’m not trying to screw you. Just kiss you, Andrea.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock.

“Well, that makes it much easier,” he said softly, lifting his head to catch her lips.

His kiss wasn’t what she’d expected. Not that she’d been imagining it. Not really. His lips were warm and soft on hers, not demanding or ruthless—although she was certain he possessed both qualities, and probably far worse, knowing his gene pool. His kiss was more an exploration. A gentle caress.

And for a moment, she decided, she could enjoy it. It had been a very long time since a man had kissed her.

She shivered when he nipped at her lower lip, then heard a soft sound escape her throat when his warm tongue soothed the bitten spot. At her nape, his fingers still moved gently, and the friction sent unexpected heat rushing down her spine and into her belly.

Gods, it had been so long. She leaned into his caress, just a little.

And his kiss shifted into something a lot more demanding.

Hot desire exploded in her middle, reaching out to all her extremities—to her face, tightening her nipples and making her press them into his chest. The hand she’d had propped on his shoulder slid up to his hair.

She knew this was a really bad idea. The man was an assassin. Her assassin.

But his kiss… It was a kiss unlike any other she’d experienced. Ever. And apparently, her impending PMS had already set her hormones in motion. She wouldn’t be able to use the vibrator with him here, but this was so much better…

Dark heat expanded inside her, making her forget the danger he posed. Making her wish she could indulge this unexpected attraction. Just for a little while.

Beneath her, his body hardened—even more than it had earlier in her kitchen—and the hardest part pressed just, oh Gods, at the right spot for her to shift her hips against his, hearing a soft moan. She knew it came from her and she didn’t care.

His hair was like silk along her fingertips, and his mouth feasted at hers, fueling her own desire.

When they had to part to breathe she could barely force her eyes open, and when she did, she found his dark with need. And wide with shock.

She gulped in some air that failed to cool her desire. It didn’t even really sate her body’s need for oxygen, but it was the best she could do when her brain wouldn’t function properly.

“Tired yet?” he rasped, his thumb sliding along the side of her neck.

An unexpected laugh bubbled from her throat.

He smiled faintly.

Andi swallowed hard. “Have you forgotten who you are? Who I am?” She really needed to remember both of those things. If she could only make her brain work again.

His smile disappeared, and something like regret surfaced in his eyes before he shook his head. “Unfortunately, I have not.” He pressed his thumb harder against her neck, and her world went black.

Chapter Two

Kallan shifted as Andrea pitched forward, and ignored the mingled desire and regret burning in his middle. He eased her to his side, wincing when his cargo pants dug into his erection. He deserved far worse for trying to distract her in that manner. Of course, the distraction had been successful.

It had also worked on him, which was not a good thing. He couldn’t afford to be sidetracked this way, and certainly not with Andrea. It wouldn’t do at all.

He set his hand over the cuff on his wrist and felt the lock give. He eased her arm higher and attached the free cuff to her iron headboard. It wouldn’t make her any happier with him or the situation, but he needed to think, and he couldn’t do it when he was so close to her. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his back to the unconscious Andrea.

The feel of her body against his would be forever imprinted on his brain, he feared. The softness, the quiet sounds she made while the pleasure swamped her.

Growling, he shoved to his feet and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Reliving it wouldn’t make his body stop throbbing painfully.

He forced his mind instead to his impossible task.

Goddess, how was he supposed to take the amulet? He simply couldn’t cut it out of her skin while she lived. No matter what sort of monster she might be, no one deserved that.

Kallan paced to the window, his pulse still too quick. He pressed his forehead to the cool glass, his gaze landing on a small group of deer gathered in the dark, just barely out of the trees and into the yard. The animals were watchful, as if aware there was a dangerous predator in their territory. He shut his eyes tight.

He needed his laptop and notes. He had to see what he’d missed in all his research. Surely there was another way.

Ari might know if there was.

But he hesitated to call his great-uncle. The question would require explanation, and Kallan would have to admit he’d found her. Ari would send out reinforcements, including Stavros, and Kallan did not want his cousin near the Medusa. He had done all the work to find her. He couldn’t give her over to Stavros now. He’d simply have to find another way to take the goblet. His cousin would look at Kallan’s mercy as weakness. Ari would feel the same way.

No, this glory would be his, once he found a way to get the amulet. This was his destiny, not his cousin’s.

Inhaling slowly and deeply, he straightened and shot a glance at the bed. Andrea would likely sleep for hours, and even when she woke, she could go nowhere until he freed her. As far as he knew, the Medusas didn’t have his ability to undo locks with just a touch, only to do protective spells for their homes. And clearly hers needed to be refreshed. Too late now.

Her dark hair framed her pale face on the pillow. Just a few minutes ago, her cheeks had been flushed with pleasure. Now they were nearly as pale as the wall behind the bed.

He strode back to her, frowning, and touched the pulse in the hollow of her throat. Strong and steady. Relief rushed along his veins. He pushed a short curl away from her temple, then realized what he was doing and pulled back his hand, curling his fingers into a fist.

He couldn’t have her. Shouldn’t want her.

His only job here was to take the amulet and kill her.

He clenched his jaw and turned from the bed again. He would kill her. He had to. But not until he figured out a way to get the amulet.

He left the room and went downstairs where he’d left his things in the kitchen, turning off lights as he went. He cleaned up the bloody mess from their earlier struggle—and changed into clean clothes so he could wash the blood out of the ones he’d been wearing. At the wooden table, he booted up his computer, trying hard not to think about the very tempting woman he’d left upstairs in her bed.

His enemy
.

When Andrea woke in the morning, it was because she’d tried to roll onto her right side and found she couldn’t. She opened her eyes to see her left wrist handcuffed to the headboard. And everything that had happened last night came back to her in a rush.

“Bastard,” she muttered, scooting toward the headboard and pushing herself awkwardly upright. “Hey, Harvester!” she shouted.

After a second, she heard a thump from the kitchen then slow footsteps to the stairwell.

She glared at the doorway, impatience bubbling. She tried to tamp it down. She needed a plan. Especially now that she
knew
the tattoo was the legendary amulet protecting her family.

She needed her dagger back.

After an interminable pause, his footsteps started up the stairs.

Andi held her breath until he came to a stop in the doorway, his green eyes wary. And bleary. He’d been sleeping.
Good.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said. If he was still only half-awake, maybe she could surprise him. Something.

He sighed, then came into the room, looking more aware as he fished the handcuff keys from a pocket of his khaki cargo pants.

She watched him carefully, looking for an opening of some sort.

She didn’t get one. Instead he climbed onto the bed and straddled her thighs before fitting the key into the cuff on the headboard. Then he captured her cuffed wrist and held it tight, his gaze hard on her face.

“I’ve made certain you can’t lock yourself in the bathroom anymore,” he said evenly. “Your dagger is out of reach, and I’ve put away anything else you could potentially use as a weapon. If you don’t come out of the bathroom in three minutes, I’m coming in after you. Do I make myself clear?”

“I can’t shower in three minutes,” she sputtered.

“You didn’t mention showering.” His gaze narrowed on hers for a moment, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. “Showering will have to wait. Three minutes.”

She swallowed back the frustrated growl working up her throat. “Fine.”

Kallan climbed off her, though he kept her wrist in his grip to steer her out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. “I’ll be waiting right here.” He released her and pulled the door shut between them.

Andi glared at the wood panel.

“Two minutes, fifty-five seconds,” he said from the other side.

She did growl this time, whirling away from the door. While she brushed her teeth, she examined the handcuffs, wondering if she had anything in the house that would pick the lock. Or if he’d left her anything to use.

“Fifty-two seconds.” Though his tone was even, she heard the warning underneath it.

She spat in the sink and rinsed her toothbrush under the stream of water. “I’m coming,” she muttered, shutting off the water and wiping her mouth on a towel, hating the metallic jingle of the cuffs as she moved.

He stood waiting when she yanked the door open, his arms crossed over the clean white T-shirt stretched across his chest. “Do I need to cuff you to me again?”

“Absolutely not.” She folded her own arms, wishing she’d had time to change her clothes too. The ones she’d slept in still had blood smears from when she’d stabbed him last night. Her gaze strayed to his arm, narrowing when she realized there were no bandages left, nor any marks from her dagger. She looked up, irritated by the hint of a smug smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “What?”

“I’m a fast healer.” He caught her wrist. “Let’s go. Are you hungry?”

She opened her mouth to say no, then stopped. She had knives in the kitchen. Hell, a fork would work as a weapon. “Yes, starving,” she said instead.

He shot her a quick glance as they went down the stairs, but didn’t say anything.

Andi worked to keep a smile from her lips until she got into the kitchen and saw her wooden knife block was nowhere in sight. Okay, no cooking knives. He had warned her he’d put away any potential weapons. She inhaled slowly. That was okay. A paring knife could also be used to do physical damage. If she had to, she could gouge his eye out with a spoon.